


Adopting the Local Coffee Addict

by arianapeterson19



Series: Avengers Shorts [26]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Avengers Family, Bucky adopts everyone, Coffee, Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Cuddling & Snuggling, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Kid Avengers, Kid Fic, Obi is a creep, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Rhodey, Protective Steve Rogers, Protectiveness, Sleepy Cuddles, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5949274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianapeterson19/pseuds/arianapeterson19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first day of public high school could have gone better - he met the school bully and some idiot with a hero complex stepped in to make Tony look weak - but it he didn't blow anything up, so really everyone should have counted it as a win.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Tony doesn't need anyone, high school is the worst, and those over-sized seniors needed to stop trying to adopt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hero Complex

The day he transferred, Tony decided to get to school early for the first time in his life. It was a big day for firsts with him. It was his first day to get to school early, first day to walk instead of being driven, and first day to go to a public school. Previously, he had been privately tutored but Howard needed the positive publicity and sending his son to slum it with the peasants was the perfect way. The school was unlocked and Tony easily located his locker. He put his belonging inside and sat down with a book.

Slowly, the halls filled with people, most of whom ignored Tony while he studiously did the same. Several stared at him but only whispered to their friends with all the finesse that teenagers possess about the new kid and one thought he would try his luck with him.

"Out of the way, shorty," said the boy who looked to be about five inches taller and 250 pounds heavier than Tony's slight frame.

Tony rolled his eyes but said nothing, uninterested in the boy.

"I said, move!" yelled the boy, shoving Tony out of the way, throwing his book across the hall for good measure.

"You're joking, right?" said Tony, jumping to his feet and glaring at the boy who towered over him. "What, do you want my lunch money while you're at it? Or wait, did you not think that far ahead? Was that too much for your tiny brain to handle? Because if I'm basing your intelligence off of the brute force and lame name calling-which I am- then I have to assume that you were lost after my initial comment of if you were joking or not."

Tony would have said more, but it seemed the other boy was tired of talking and simply tackled the smaller boy. While he was actually a decent fighter, Tony was far outmatched by the sheer size of the other and could do little more than protect his face and get a precious few punches in as well. But then the boy was gone.

"Pick on someone your own size," said a new voice as Tony scrambled to his feet, ignoring the biting pain of his left ankle where had somehow managed to get stepped on during the scramble.

"What, like you?" said the boy.

The newcomer punched the boy once, causing the boy to go down hard and not get back up.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I had it covered," snapped Tony.

"I'm sure you did, I was just hurrying things along so you wouldn't be late to class," nodded the boy with an almost too kind smile. "I'm Steve, by the way."

Tony ignored him and stalked off in the direction of his first class of the day, art. Steve followed.

"Leave me alone," growled Tony.

"I'm glad you're so full of yourself that you think I'm following you, but I have art first period," replied Steve with that easy smile of his.

"Whatever."

Tony continued on. Once in the room, he found a spot at the very back at one of the many large black tables. He sank down, looking even smaller than he actually was. The problem was, he wasn't quite fifteen yet but he was in all senior level classes. Being already small for his age, being stuck around seniors made it worse and he knew he wasn't big enough to fight back every time. It was going to be a long year.

"You're in my seat, asshat," said one boy, glaring down at Tony.

"You're friends are over there, Nick," said Steve, setting his things opposite of Tony.

"Always protecting the weak, aren't you Steve?" snarled Nick, who moved on nonetheless.

"I don't need your help," hissed Tony.

"I always sit at the back," shrugged Steve. "You're the one who's new."

"Hello Steve," boomed a boy even larger and more blonde than Steve, almost crashing into the seat next to Steve. "Who is this new young fellow?"

"I don't know, he's just sort of followed me here," laughed Steve.

"He's sort of scrawny," commented the new boy.

"But feisty," said a different boy, this one with sandy hair that was cropped short and more brown than blonde.

"He's also right in front of you," said Tony, grumbling out of habit because, quite frankly, these guys were starting to grow on him with their good nature and easy distance. "And his name is Tony."

"Greetings, Anthony," boomed the largest of the blonde crew.

"It's just Tony," said Tony.

"Thor likes to use full names," said Steve as a way of explaining. "He's a bit dramatic and feels that if he has to be called Thor because his parents are super mythology buffs then everyone else has to suffer with him with their given names."

"You're only okay with it because your name is Steven," snapped Thor.

"The thing is, it's really just Tony," said Tony, lying through his teeth because he hated anyone calling him Anthony; it had too many bad memories.

"Lucky bastard," muttered the other blonde. "I've been trying for years to get Thor to just call me Clint like everyone else but he insists on using my full name."

"How old are you?" asked Steve. "You look kinda young to be a senior."

"I'm 18," lied Tony.

Being young was dangerous, as Tony had discovered. Also, his father had lied about his birth to the media. Wanting an heir had driven him to creating a fictional one, so Tony was actually several years younger than his media age. He almost felt bad about lying to these people, but that feeling passed quickly because, quite frankly, Tony didn't want to get emotionally attached to them.

"You don't look 18," said Clint.

"I'm sure I'll be happy for that in a few years when you're old and wrinkly and I still look young and attractive."

They laughed, sat down, and began their art project, which was supposed to be a drawing of what it looked like inside their mind. As Tony began to work, he sketched out exact lines but the subject kept changing, moving from one thing to another so quickly that it seemed no single idea was ever formed completely. He listened with part of his attention to the others talk and confirmed that they were all seniors and very good friends.

"So how did you piss off Hill?" asked Clint and it took Tony a few seconds to realize that Clint was talking to him about the fight in the hall.

"Existing," replied Tony before he could stop himself.

The others stared at him in surprise.

"That came out way more bitter sounding than I meant it," said Tony, covering with a grin. "He was too stupid to leave me alone."

"I heard you got your ass handed to you," said Clint.

"No, Steven saved his ass before it could be handed to him," replied Thor.

"I had it handled," sulked Tony.

"Don't worry about it," said Clint bracingly, clapping Tony on the shoulder as if they were friends. "Steve looks for any excuse to beat up Hill. Hill used to beat on Steve all the time before Steve finally decided to hit puberty, so now he looks for every reason to repay the favor, don't you Steve?"

"Hill's a bully," said Steve. "I don't like bullies, so I don't like Hill."

"With flawless logic like that, who could argue?" said a new girl drily, appearing at the table as if she had always been there.

"Nat, this is Tony, he's new," said Clint.

"He's young," replied Nat.

"What is it with you guys and talking about me as if I'm not sitting right here?" said Tony, throwing his hands in the air, revealing his oddly artistic mess of a picture. Charcoal smeared across his forehead as he dashed at his shaggy hair.

Natasha looked at Tony, her eyes so piercing they would have hit his soul if he believed in souls, which he did not; he believed in socializing. Still, Tony looked back as calmly as he could. Eventually, it seemed that Natasha was satisfied because she nodded and sat down, picking up a conversation with Clint.

That first class set the tempo for the next month for Tony. He had been quickly taken in by the eccentric group of seniors who didn't pry, had a knack for talking about him as if he wasn't in the room, and were all fiercely protective. Tony would never admit it, but he found he rather liked the feeling of being protected. As more and more people found out he was the son of the famous Howard Stark, Tony found he needed that protection. And his new friends didn't care that he was a billionaires son. They were more interested in the Tony who had a mouth bigger than his ego, was brilliant beyond compare, and was secretly more generous than anyone thought possible.

As that first month wore on, Tony found himself actually enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. He spent most of his time with his friends, having lunch with them, going to their houses, helping them with homework and even spending the night a few times. Despite his best efforts, Tony found himself attached to his new friends, but worked hard to keep that to himself.

"Um, is there a Tony Stark in this class?" called the art teacher on the morning of Tony's 27th day at school (not that he was keeping count).

"He's right here!" yelled Thor while Tony tried to sink into the floor.

Standing at the door next to the teacher was a tall young man in military uniform.

"Well I'll be, I guess you were right," said the teacher, shaking his shaggy grey head. "Stark, you've been summoned."

Tony stood up and walked as calmly as he could to the front of the room, feeling every single set of eyes drilling into his back as he did. Once he was out in the hall with the door shut, he dropped the act and threw himself into the older man's arms.

"Rhodey!" laughed Tony, a real smile breaking across his face. "I thought you didn't come home for another month! You sneaky bastard. It's so good to see you. Oh my goodness, you have got to tell me all about the military. I mean, I already read your files; you've been doing some pretty cool stuff, man. And I think I can make you a better gun than those ones they push on you now. Just let me get my hands on one and I can improve it's accuracy no problem. I-"

"Tony, we need to talk," said Rhodey, his face serious.

Rhodes had known Tony since they were young. They had met at some convention Howard had dragged Tony to and been best friends ever since. Rhodes was one of the few people in the world who knew how old Tony actually was and the young military man looked at Tony as the younger brother he never wanted.

"Are you breaking up with me?" said Tony, trying to laugh through the unease settling in the pit of his stomach. "Because I hate to break it to you, but we aren't a couple. I'm not even sure that'd be legal because you're what, 26? That's like twelve years older than me. Yeah, definitely not legal right now."

"Let's get out of here," said Rhodey, trying to walk down the hall.

"I am in school now, Rhodey, in case you hadn't noticed," said Tony. "I'm pretty sure you can't just up and leave whenever you want. They frown upon that here."

"I can check you out."

"I'm flattered, but I thought you were breaking up with me."

"Tony, there's been an accident," shouted Rhodey. "You're parents are dead."

Tony froze.

Out of all of the things he had expected Rhodey to say, that was not even close to the list. In fact, he wasn't even sure he heard correctly because there was no possible way that Rhodey had just informed him-by shouting in the middle of the hall-that his parents were dead. They were on a business trip. Tony knew they were on a business trip because of the last conversation he had with them had been short, strained, and a good-bye. But it wasn't a forever type of good-bye, it was just a going to be back in two weeks type of good-bye.

"I'm sorry," said Rhodey at a more reasonable level, face falling. "There was an accident."

Tony shook his head, turned away, and walked back into the classroom. Inside, his classmates had already gone back to their own worlds, worlds that were not crashing down around their ears.

"Hey Tony, what was that all about?" asked Clint as Tony gathered his things.

Steve wasn't sure Tony even heard the question. The look on the younger boys face clearly said shock and Steve wasn't one to just let things go.

"Come on, guys," said Steve, quickly packing up his own things and making to follow Tony. "Let's find out what's going on."

The others shrugged followed. The teacher didn't even protest, used to unusual behavior from the back pack of seniors. Each of them were very involved in school activities and often had to leave for this or that occasion. Teachers had long since stopped questioning them and since they were all top students, it didn't really matter if they were in class or not; they somehow always made up the work.

In the hall, they just caught a glimpse of Tony turning a corner with the military man, the man's hand on Tony's back, guiding the boy. The friends ran to catch up.

"Oi," said Steve, taking point as usual. "Where are you taking Tony?"

"Go back to class," said Rhodey, not even turning to look.

"Not until you tell us what's going on," said Thor, blocking Rhodey's path.

"It's okay, Rhodey," said Tony softly. "These are my…friends."

Rhodey gave Tony a searching look. It wasn't that he couldn't imagine the boy having friends-Tony was the type of person people were just attracted to-it was that Tony actively avoided making friends. For all his show of being a loud, obnoxious showoff, Tony was actually very shy and had been burned one too many times to want to make friends. But then again, Rhodey had left him all alone-Tony's parents didn't count as company as far as Rhodey was concerned-so Tony was bound to seek out some form of comfort.

"Not here," said Tony, suddenly. "Can we- can we go to your apartment?"

"No," said Rhodey with a rueful smile. "Sorry buddy, I got rid of my apartment a few months ago when I was shipped out."

"Well I'm not going back there," snapped Tony.

"We can go to my house," said Steve. "It's only a few blocks away."

Rhodey nodded. Tony didn't seem up to arguing any sort of point and just followed along, something that unnerved his new friends as much as it unnerved Rhodey because Tony Stark was a lot of things but quiet was not one of them.

"You think he's finally going to tell us?" Clint whispered to Natasha as they walked outside of the school building and into the busy street.

"I think he's going to tell us something else," said Natasha softly. "But what you're thinking he's going to tell us is something we'll have to bring up. I don't think it can wait anymore."


	2. Platonic

Steve's apartment was small and comfortable. His mother was a nurse and often at work, so Tony had only met her twice, but she was the type of woman that he had always envisioned being a mother. She welcomed him no questions asked, making a small feast and making him feel more at home in the small apartment than he ever had in his mansion of a house. Out of all of his new friends homes, Steve's was his favorite.

Tony sat down on the single barrel chair, knees pulled up to his chest, situated in the corner and looking smaller than ever. Rhodey took a seat on the armchair while Natasha, Clint, and Thor all sat on the couch and Steve went to the kitchen to grab tea. For several long minutes, no one said a word, not until the kettle whistle blew and Steve came back in, offering everyone a mug. Then he took a spot on the ground, leaning against the wall under the window.

"So what's going on?" asked Clint at last, unable to take the tense silence of the room.

Rhodey looked at Tony, who in turn studied his knees as if they were a particularly difficult math problem.

"There's been an accident," said Rhodey slowly and when it became apparent that Tony would not stop him, he continued. "Tony's parents, Howard and Maria Stark, were killed in a crash this morning."

For a moment, only the sounds of the street outside wafted through the apartment.

"I'm so sorry," said Steve at last.

Tony looked at Rhodey suddenly, as if Steve's voice had woken him from the trance, eyes wide and scared.

"What's going to happen to me?" asked Tony, his voice a choked whisper. "I can't- I'm just a- Rhodey?"

Rhodey looked at the others in the room and then back at Tony.

"They don't know, do they?" said Rhodey.

Tony shook his head, shaggy brown hair flopping.

"Tony, the press doesn't know yet," said Rhodey. "The company is set up so Stane will run it until you're ready to take over but Tony, you can't live on your own. You know that."

"He's of age," said Steve. "Technically, he can."

"Tony," said Rhodey, which came out as more of a statement than a question.

Tony looked at the others in the room. He wanted to tell them, he really did, but the idea also scared him to no end because he was sure they would hate him for lying to them. He would hate him for lying to them. But Rhodey couldn't stay forever and Tony, even though he was a genius, was still just a kid and couldn't live alone. Someone needed to know to check up on him.

"I'm not actually 18 quite yet," admitted Tony. "It's not common knowledge and I'd like to keep it that way. But yeah, legally I have to have a guardian and my parents sort of left that up in the air."

"Well how close to 18 are you?" asked Thor. "If you are almost of age, then I'm sure one of us could let you stay with our family for a few months."

"It's more than a few months, isn't it?" said Natasha, and though it was phrased as a question, Tony knew she meant it as a statement. "It's more like a few years."

"I'll be 15 next week," griped Tony.

"That's impossible," said Thor. "You're birth was announced the same year mine was. There are photographs and everything!"

"Lies, all of it," shrugged Tony. "Howard wanted an heir, the pressure was on, so he made on up. He called the fake heir Tony in case when he finally did get an heir it was a girl, then he could claim it was short for either Anthony or Antonia. A few years later, I came along and he hid me from the world until I was old enough to pass for that heir he made up."

"How are you a senior then?"

"I'm a genius," shrugged Tony. "And now I'm an orphan."

He said it so calmly it was as if it were happening to someone else. The true horror of the situation wasn't that his parents were dead, although he was still in shock over that, but that the most likely candidate for his guardian was Stane, his father's business partner, and that man gave Tony the creeps.

"So what happens now?" asked Steve, looking at Rhodey.

"I'm only here until the funeral," admitted Rhodey sadly. "I couldn't convince them to give me more time, sorry buddy. You can stay with me until then, but I don't know what happens after."

"I'll stay with you," said Clint eagerly. "I already practically live at Steve's, so my dad wouldn't notice."

"And when Clint can't be there, I can," said Thor. "My parents give me free reign to come and go as I wish. It's some sort of experiment to see if I'm ready for college."

"You're always welcome over here any time," said Steve. "I wouldn't tell my mom."

Rhodey didn't even bother to shake his head in wonder, just pleased that Tony had finally found other people who cared about him without wanting something in return. Rhodey could only hope that Tony would let them care, the young boy not being used to positive attention.

"I don't need to be baby sat," said Tony defensively, and Rhodey cringed, knowing his friend was shutting them out already.

"Please," scoffed Clint. "As if I want to babysit you. Have you seen your house? It's huge! I'd get my own room and everything, as if I need another excuse to not be in my own house."

Natasha rubbed Clint's arm soothingly. The dirty blonde had an unpleasant home life at best and downright nasty most days. However, it seemed he had said the right thing, because Tony offered him a small grin and Rhodey relaxed.

"Steve Rogers, what is this I hear about you skipping school?" came the kind but sharp voice of Mrs. Rogers as she unlocked the door.

"Mom," said Steve, rushing to greet her. "Look, I'm really sorry, I didn't think they'd make you leave work. But listen-"

"Steve, you can't just cut school," sighed his mother. "You're a smart boy. And you lot."

Everyone in the room winced as Mrs. Rogers turned her glare on them. She was a sweet woman, small, only 5 foot 2 inches, and normally kind, but had a way of mothering everyone she met and making them feel guilty when they did something wrong.

"Ditching school as well. What will your parents think? I'm in half a mind to call each and every one of them right now and tell them to pick you up."

Tony, who had momentarily stopped thinking about his sudden lack of parents, was caught off guard, and with his defenses down, a single tear escaped his eye.   
Another salty bastard soon followed and more joined the force until an army of traitors charged down his ruddy cheeks and he could no longer hold back a sob.  
Instantly, the mood in the room changed. Tony had curled in on himself even more, if that was possible, forming a small ball in the barrel chair, sobs wracking his little frame. His entire demeanor screamed of the need to shut out the world and hide from the pain.

"Come here," said Rhodey softly, moving to sit on the ground, pulling Tony into his lap and rocking him gently.

Normally, Rhodey and Tony had very clear lines about touching. Simply put, they didn't do it around others. Tony loved being touched, being in a constant state of touch deprivation because his parents, when they were around, ignored him at the best of times. However, while Tony loved being touched, he didn't know how to initiate it properly, so most people assumed he didn't want to have physical contact with them. Rhodey knew he liked being touched but they had an unspoken rule that they kept to their own personal bubbles unless they were alone. They just did.

Tony curled into the older man like the child he was, seeking out comfort and shelter from the storm his life had become.

"Tony's parents were killed in an accident this morning," said Steve softly to his mother.

"No," gasped Mrs. Rogers. "Poor baby. I'm going to put on a pot of coffee. You go take care of Tony, Steve. Is Bucky coming over after classes?"

"Yeah," said Steve absently. "He gets done about four."

"Okay," said Mrs. Rogers. "And who is the young man in the living room?"

"Rhodey," said Steve. "He's Tony's older brother, I guess. I mean, not really but as close to one as he can get."

He needed to say no more. Tony had mentioned Rhodey enough that even Mrs. Rogers understood his role in the young man's life.

"I texted Bruce," said Clint to Steve. "He's going to explain the situation to the office before he heads over. He's bringing food."

"Good."

Slowly, Tony quieted, his sobs giving way to hiccups and the hiccups eventually settling into slightly unsteady breaths as he slipped into a slumber only emotional exhaustion could bring.

"You can put him on the couch," said Steve.

"Thanks," said Rhodey, carefully placing the still curled up Tony on the couch.

Tony whimpered at the loss of contact, seeking out another form of comfort unconsciously and finding a blanket. He pulled it to him and burrowed beneath it.

"I have to talk to Stane," said Rhodey after a minute. "I don't want to leave him, though."

"We've got him," said Steve confidently. "Take care of the details and if you need anything, please let us know. We'll take care of Tony, don't worry."

Rhodey nodded, shook hands with everyone, smoothed down Tony's hair on last time, and then left the small apartment, leaving Tony in the care of his new friends.

"How are we going to pull this off?" asked Clint, settling on the ground in front of the couch, leaning back just enough that he could feel the blanket moving, assuring him the Tony was still alive. "I mean, we've gotten away with a lot of shit, but raising a kid?"

"He's not a kid," said Thor, pacing. "He's Tony. He's mature for his age. It's not like raising a kid, it's like having a little brother. Actually, he's the same age as my brother."

"Thor, your brother is in jail," said Natasha. "Not a good example."

"Tony's going to be a handful," said Clint. "This is going to be fun."

"How are you so confident?" said Steve. "We've agreed to look after a 14 year old and we're only 18."

"You're joking right?" laughed Clint. "You're the only one here with a decent parent. You practically raised me. And Tony has raised himself. The biggest adjustment he's going to have is getting used to people being there for him. If you've done this well with me, it's going to be easy looking out for Tony."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Rhodey. He reminds me of my own brother - bit of a jerk but totally has your back. 
> 
> Fun fact of the day- I have a twin brother.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	3. Large Houses

The house - if you could call it that - was no more empty than it usually was. Absently, Tony went into the kitchen and began to cook. He pulled out various items from cabinets, measuring, pouring, and mixing in a daze, almost unaware of what he was doing. He had set his mind on autopilot the day before when Rhodey broke the news. In the wee hours of the morning, he had snuck back to the mansion, away from Steve's welcoming home, because he was hurt and scared and thought that if he was alone in the mansion like usual then it wouldn't seem so lonely.

Once when he was younger Howard and Maria had forgotten about their son when they left on a trip. Jarvis, the butler, returned from his week off two days later to find the kitchen a mess and a very hungry Tony on the ground, eating peanut butter out of the jar with his hand. He was five, tiny, and far too young to be left alone. Tony hadn't changed his clothes since his parents had left and had some stick dark substance on his elbow.

To his credit, Jarvis hadn't scolded the boy, merely picked him off the ground, mindless of how he was getting his suit dirty, and gave the boy a bath. After Jarvis had picked up the kitchen, he began teaching the young boy how to cook, just in case.

Tony had spent most of his childhood with Jarvis as his caretaker as well as butler. The older man seemed to have taken it upon himself to make sure that Tony was fed and looked after, especially when it became more apparent that his parents had no interest in doing the job themselves and the nannies they hired were gone faster than the butler could learn their names. For his parents, Tony was more of an accessory, something to parade around during formal occasions and at functions but the day to day raising of their only son they couldn't be bothered with. Maria just showed no interest in the boy while Howard claimed that Tony was too difficult to handle.

Jarvis had been with his parents during the accident.

Everyone else assumed Tony was heartbroken over the sudden death of his parents while in reality he was devastated by the loss of his Jarvis. So he cooked his favorite meal, the one Jarvis used to make them to share when his parents were out of town and Tony allowed to eat in the kitchen with Jarvis without fear of punishment for eating with the help.

Sheppard's pie and soft rolls.

"Looks good," said Natasha, causing Tony to jump and curse.

"What the hell!" yelled Tony, glaring at the red head. "Can't you move like a normal person and not a ninja? How did you even get in here?"

"You left the back window unlocked," shrugged Natasha. "I'm just here to let the others in the normal way."

She proceeded to the back door and unlocked it, letting in Steve, Bruce, Clint, and Thor.

"You left your bag," said Steve, holding out Tony's backpack. "I thought you'd like it back."

No one said a word about Tony running away, they just took up places around the kitchen or, in Steve's case, started helping Tony with the cooking preparations.

"So dibs on the highest room of the tallest tower," said Clint after several minutes of silence.

"Sure, Princess," said Natasha with an easy smile. "I want the ground floor anyway."

"You can't really dibs rooms," said Tony. "I haven't invited you to stay. Also there are no ground floor bedrooms."

"That's alright, I didn't ask."

"I don't understand," said Tony slowly, blinking at the people gathered in his kitchen.

"We aren't asking you to understand," said Steve. "We're telling you we're moving in."

"Won't your parents be upset or say no or something?"

"You forget that we're all of age," said Bruce. "And Clint's already told you that he barely goes to his house. I've just been waiting for a reason to get the hell away from mine. Most of it will be like having extended guests. Or like you're running a hotel or something."

Clint nodded. For years his father ignored him in favor of his older brother. Then his brother had disappeared and his father blamed himself. Deep down in that place Steve insisted held housed the soul Clint swore he sold of better sight, Clint knew that his father wasn't even aware that he ignored the only son he had left. But after Clint had sold his soul, he quit visiting that place inside him, so it didn't matter why his father ignored him because it didn't change the fact that he was ignored.

"I'm just in a foster home," said Natasha, absently pulling back her hair as she silently cataloged the kitchen-noting everything from the far too polished silver to the small splash of water from where Tony had spilled his drink before the others arrived. "Nice couple but I've been thinking about getting my own place now that I can. I have a job and money."

"My mom can barely afford to feed me," said Steve quietly. "I'll still see her all the time, but I can't watch her work herself to death anymore. This will be better for everyone."

Tony wanted to say something to correct them, but as he looked around, he caught sight of Jarvis's still open door. He didn't know much about father's or families, but he knew enough about all Jarvis had done for him that he knew it transcended the normal relationship between butler and employer's son. And Jarvis would be sorely disappointed in him if he turned away those who needed a place to be themselves as much as he needed people to care.

"The potatoes need to be peeled," said Tony.

Bruce picked up an old, wooden handled peeler from the counter. For half a second Tony wanted to yell at him for touching Jarvis's peeler, the one the butler had used since before Tony could remember, because it seemed to wrong to see it in the hands on anyone but the old man, but then Bruce began to carefully peel the first potato around the middle like Jarvis used to do, not end to end like most people did, and it didn't seem too bad.

The front door opening with a bang and a loud voice shattered the illusion of home that had begun to trickle in, making all of the teenagers face the sound.

"Tony, I'm home!"

Had the others been looking at their young friend, they would have need him visibly pale.


	4. To Serve and Protect (But mostly Protect)

Obidiah Stane was not a handsome man and Tony really wished he would shave off the pathetic growth on his chin that he was trying to pass off as facial hair. It was sad really, like a teenager was trying to grow the beard, not a middle aged man. Tony had taken to calling Stane's beard Larry because Stane yelled at him every time   
Tony referred to the beard as 'the hairs that ran away from the head but didn't get far'.

"Tony, my boy," said Stane, marching into the room as if he owned the place. "So sad about Howard and Maria."

Tony didn't think Stane sounded the least bit sad, but Stane had the type of voice that grated on the ears like a fork dragging across a glass window pane, so Tony blocked out most of what the man sounded like, filtering it down to the words.

"And who are these young people?" demanded Stane, his grin like a wolf.

"Friends from school," said Tony, shrugging. "They came over to say hello and have dinner with me."

Stane nodded thoughtfully.

"I spoke with your friend, Rhodes," said Stane when it became clear that no one else was going to say something. "I hired a planner for the funeral, so that's taken care of. And in the case of something like this happening, your father had me signed on as acting CEO until you graduate from college. I just came by to see how you were holding up."

"I'm fine," said Tony. "You may leave now."

"I think I'll stay here, actually. I don't want you to be alone right now, what with everything going on."

"You really don't have to," said Tony. "My friends are going to stay with me for a while. I'll be fine."

"Tony, let's go talk in the other room for a moment," said Stane calmly, turning and walking out, assuming Tony would follow.

"That man is creepy as hell," said Clint as soon as Tony was clear of the room. "He didn't even look sad!"

"He probably set it up," shrugged Natasha. "Think about it- he had the most to gain by Tony's parents dying."

"Then why not kill Tony while he was at it?" said Clint. "The kid still gets the company when he finishes school."

"Maybe he meant for Tony to be there. Maybe he's waiting to see if he can control Tony."

"He won't be able to," chuckled Bruce. "We've known Tony for how long? A few weeks? And we already know you can't control him. He does what he wants."

"Is your mom really going to be okay with you moving in here?" Clint asked Thor suddenly.

"I won't be moving in," said Thor softly. "My parents would never agree to it."

"My mom hasn't exactly said yes yet either," admitted Steve, scuffing his foot on the ground.

"And you guys promised Tony you'd stay?" hissed Clint, glaring. "What the hell?"

Steve glared right back, but before he could respond, Tony yelled in the other room.

"Fine!" screamed Tony, marching back into the kitchen backwards. "Screw you! Screw fucking you, Stane! You had better believe that when I come back from college I'm firing your ass so fast it'll make Larry fall off your face."

He slammed the door and marched into the open bedroom at the other end of the kitchen.

"Um, Tony?" said Bruce cautiously. "Everything okay?"

Tony didn't respond, just began placing books, ties, and odds and ends into an old suitcase. His hands were steady and gentle, placing everything with care, but his body vibrated with energy. No one said anything, so the front door closing was easily heard. It echoed around the large house like a cathedral bell tolling the hour. Tony was a blur of movement, flying about a the modest room, packing up things that no one would have pegged as his. His fast pace made Steve dizzy but Tony continued to move.

Until suddenly, he stopped.

And stared at a small sheet of paper.

"Tony- 

There are a hundred different reasons why I love you, son, but trying to sit down and write it is impossible. That's not because I cannot think of the reasons and it's not because there aren't the reasons. You see, the dilemma that I face is that words aren't that great when you think about it and I have never been gifted with words. I had worked for families before, each one was different, had an impact on me but you, Tony, you were always special. From the very beginning I knew you were going to do great things.

My dearest Tony, what I'm trying to say is that every once in a while, you meet someone who isn't at all what you were expecting or even looking for. That person isn't perfect. They are probably impossible at times, they probably baffle you, they drive you up a wall, they make you laugh, and they show you the world in a different way. For me, that person was you. The day Sir and Madam brought you home from the hospital, I never would have imagined that you would become anything more than another person to work for. But you did. You are so much more. You are greater than you believe, smarter than you are aware, and far braver than any of us know.

I know that you're careful, Tony, and you don't let people in, but I am so proud of how you have put yourself out there and made new friends. Don't shut them out.   
Thank you for doing your best to make me happy and proud but you fail to realize that I'm already both of those things because of you. I will never betray you, but I know you will not be shocked if I leave. You expect it, because being different means people don't understand and won't stay long enough to learn. But I'm telling you now, Tony, that I will never leave you. Even if I'm not around-I am getting older- I will be there for you. You're becoming a fine young man and I look forward to many more years of watching you grow.

Happy birthday, Tony.

Love Always- Jarvis"

"Shit," cursed Tony.

He shoved the note in his pocket along with the small, wrapped box. Then he picked up the suitcase and marched out of the room, through the kitchen, and beyond the back door that seemed to have been unlocked years ago but in reality had been a mere three hours in the past.

"Tony, where are you going?" asked Steve, trotting after Tony with the others close behind.

"Away," said Tony over his shoulder. "Stane gets the house since the Howard ran the business from here. I'm not staying with him."

"Where are you going to go?" asked Bruce.

"I'll get an apartment."

"You're not even 15!"

"You're not the boss of me."

"Yeah, that's really convincing us that you're old enough to get your own apartment," muttered Natasha.

"I don't need any of you," yelled Tony, eyes gleaming with the threat of tears. "I didn't need you before, I don't need you now. I don't need anyone. I can take care of myself. Trust me, I've been doing it for years."

Tony stormed off out of sight.

"Follow him?" said Steve, looking at Clint and Natasha imploringly.

"Of course," said Natasha.

"You want us to bring him back to your place when he calms down enough to realize he has no place to stay?" asked Clint, cracking his neck.

"No, my mom's working the night shift, so I'm staying with Bucky tonight. Just bring him there I guess."

With a short nod, Clint and Natasha were off, disappearing like shadows at night, silent and blending in flawlessly, leaving Steve, Bruce, and Thor to contemplate how much more difficult is was going to be to help Tony if the boy wouldn't stay still long enough for them to let him know that was their intention.

"He's not going to come quietly," said Bruce, shaking his head.

"It's like we're holding on to waves but we cannot stop the time," said Thor. "He's going to keep running away when he gets scared, whenever he feels like we're getting too close."

"Then we'll just keep bringing him back until he knows he can come back on his own," said Steve.


	5. Adopting or Kidnapping

Bucky's home was an old house but it was large, three town houses combined to create a mess of halls, rooms, and passages. It was ideal for Bucky's parents, who often took in foster children and anyone who asked. Bucky claimed the entire third floor for himself, which his parents never complained about because like them,  
Bucky couldn't seem to turn down a friend in need and often had guests over.

"Hey Bucky," yelled Steve when he opened the door.

"In the kitchen," replied Bucky, voice somewhat muffled by walls and the general noise of the house.

Steve, Bruce, and Thor wound their way through the house and eventually landed in the kitchen at the back, which opened into a small shared courtyard. Bucky was just putting the finishing touches onto his mountain of a sandwich when they arrived.

"Hey, where are the ninja twins?" asked Bucky, grinning over his shoulder at his best friend and the others. "Are they planning an ambush?"

"They went after Tony," said Steve, making his way to the sink to wash his hands while Thor helped himself to the fridge.

"How is the brat?" asked Bucky, face turning serious. At first, he couldn't stand the younger boy and didn't get why Steve would tolerate him either but Tony had grown on him. That didn't mean they stopped ribbing each other, but it had turned from hurtful into good natured.

"He ran away," sighed Steve, taking half of the sandwich Bucky offered him and sitting at the table. "He got kicked out of his house."

"What?" yelled Bucky. "How the hell is that even possible?"

"That guy Stane runs the company until Tony graduates college, which includes living in the house," said Bruce, hopping onto the counter and slumping. "Tony refuses to live with the man. Can't say I blame him, the guy gives me the creeps."

"So let me get this straight," said Bucky, glaring at the room in general. "The kid isn't even 15 yet, his parents just died, and some creep has taken over his house?"

"Pretty much," said Thor around a mouthfuls of food. "It's looking grim for young Tony."

"And he ran away?"

Steve nodded.

"And you just let him go?"

"Natasha and Clint went after him," said Steve indignantly. "It's not like I left him stranded. They promised to bring him back when he was tired of running and realized he has no place to go."

"Easy, I didn't mean it like that," said Bucky, patting Steve's shoulder. "I was just trying to get all the facts down."

"So can he stay here for tonight?" asked Bruce, cutting the the heart of the matter.

"He can stay as long as he needs," said Bucky, shrugging easily. "My parents won't care. Actually, they'll be thrilled to have another person to dote on. They're too used to Steve now to want to coddle him too much. And ever since I started classes they've been complaining that I'm not making enough new friends for them to take care of; I swear, my parents have a hero complex or something."

"Thanks, Buck," said Steve.

"Don't mention it."

"But you-"

"I know, his secret is safe with me. No telling what those idiots at DHS will do if they catch wind of his situation."

Several hours later, they were sitting upstairs in Bucky's living room when Clint and Natasha finally arrived with Tony in tow. Clint had Tony's bag slung in hand, his other firmly on the back of the younger boy's neck, steering him to a seat on the floor.

"Just throw his bag in Steve's room," said Bucky dismissively, not looking away from the television screen.

"Hey, I sleep there!" said Steve, taking his cue from Bucky and continuing fighting his best friend via game controller.

"You have bunk beds for a reason," said Bucky, never taking his eyes off the screen where he was busy destroying Steve. "Learn to share, you big baby."

Tony curled in on himself a bit, leaning back against the couch. As much as he appreciated his friends help, the only person he really wanted to be around was Jarvis. Since that wasn't about to happen, he would settle for Rhodey but again, he knew that request would fall short because Rhodey was busy taking care of the finer details of the future for Tony like the overprotective big brother he was. And as much as Tony told himself that he didn't need anyone, that he was fine, he knew it was a lie because it was the end of the day, he was tired of running and he knew that he was just not ready to face the world on his own. He just couldn't admit that to them yet because everyone else always left.

"Bucky, sweetheart," said his mother, sticking her head through the door frame that lead to the rest of the house. "Are you and your friends staying for dinner? Oh, who's this young man?"

"That's Tony, mom," said Bucky, tossing his controller to Clint and joining his mother at the door.

Bucky quickly stepped out of the room and shut the door, standing on the landing with his mother, who he towered over. She had the same soft dark hair as her son but her eyes were green like seaweed. She smiled up at her son, love clear in her stance and the way her hand found his arm in a casual sort of contact that was both sincere and comfortable.

"Mom, Tony is staying with me for a little while," said Bucky. "He's had a rough week and I really don't think he's up to dinner with everyone."

"Okay," said Mrs. Barns easily, used to such behavior. "Just send Steve or Thor down soon and I'll have plates ready for them to bring up. Are all your friends staying tonight?"

"Not sure. They'll at least stay for dinner. Steve's spending the night for sure. Clint probably will."

"Just take care of your friend, Bucky. It's very important that we look after each other, especially those who have no one else to do it for them."

"I know, mom," said Bucky, fondly rolling his eyes at words he had heard over again since the time he was an infant.

With a final hug, Mrs. Barnes made her way back down the stairs and Bucky went back into the room.

"Steve kicked Clint's ass," said Natasha when Bucky walked back in. "Although I think Clint let him win just to ruin your stats."

"You little bastard," said Bucky, shoving Clint away and reclaiming his controller.

"Has your mother made a feast?" asked Thor, his voice booming. "Because this mortal form had grown week and demands sustenance!"

Steve and Thor brought food from the kitchen up and they all ate except Tony, who politely refused anything offered to him. Steve looked ready to force food on the boy, but Bucky stopped him, simply setting some on a plate and placing it within reach of Tony should the kid change his mind. He didn't and eventually, Bucky decided to call it a night.

"If you want to stay, you can, but I'm going to bed," said Bucky, yawning. "Tony, Steve can show you your bed. The rest of you know where everything is. Night."

"Night," chorused the others.

Steve dutifully brought Tony to the room he had long ago claimed as his own. It was neat, had a dresser and extra long bunk bed that was queen sized on the bottom and full on the top. Tony's bag was on the floor by the door.

"You can have the bottom bunk," said Steve. "I sleep on the top anyway. Here."

Steve tossed Tony an old pair of sweat pants and shirt to the kid. He couldn't remember if they were his or Bucky's, but they were too small at any rate.

"Didn't see you pack any pajamas," said Steve in explanation. "Bathroom is down the hall."

"Thanks," said Tony softly.

Steve went to the bathroom and by the time he returned, Tony was already asleep on the bottom bunk in his borrowed clothes, his own clothes tossed carelessly on the floor.

Shaking his head, Steve silently folded the discarded items and placed them on top of the dresser. Then he tried to pull the comforter out from under Tony to cover the boy up, but the pitiful whimper he emitted when he was jostled had the larger boy stilling his movements. Instead, he pulled his own blanket off the top bunk and draped it over the boy.

"Sleep well, Tony," said Steve, smoothing back the messy brown hair like his own mother would.

He climbed into his own bed and settled back, hoping against hope that his young roommate would remain asleep. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then a low scream carved through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! I did a thing where I posted this to the wrong story. Silly me! That's what I get for trying to be productive while not being up on sleep.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	6. Basket Case at Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is some implied non-con at the very start of this chapter. Nothing graphic, it's like a paragraph and then over. But it that's a thing for you, skip the first 4ish paragraphs of the chapter.

_The music was loud but it was overpowered by the pounding in his ear. The music was supposed to be low and classy like the black tie event it was surrounding. Tony hated the events. He hated all of the fake smiles, too firm handshakes, and judging looks he received. Everyone was older than him by at least a decade and like Howard, they didn't appreciate his sense of humor._

 

_When he ducked away from the crowd and wandered down one of the many halls of the event center, Tony was blissfully unaware that he was being followed, the music and noise still reverberating through his mind. His steps were easy, calming, muffled by the tainted maroon carpet. He liked the color maroon almost as much as he enjoyed saying the word. Maroon. A color and a verb. Marooned in a maroon hallway. Tony chuckled softly to himself._

_"What's so funny?" came a deep voice as Tony was shoved against the wall._

_An arm the size of a small tree trunk wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply and voice in one fell swoop. Thick fingers tugged at Tony's suit, untucking his shirt, yanking at his belt, and that more than anything woke Tony from his surprised stupor induced by a voice he recognized. With fear induced rage, Tony struck out, kicking, shoving, and biting anything within reach, trying to get away from hands that groped him. His fathers voice echoed in his head, snide remarks making their way to the forefront because he knew his father wouldn't care. He wouldn't encourage such treatment of his son, but he wouldn't care that it had happened either._

 

"Tony! Tony, wake up!"

 

With a strangled shout, Tony woke, jerking out of his dream. He flailed uselessly but there was no one attacking him. The strong arms around him weren't restraining him, they were holding him.

 

"You're okay," said Steve softly, pulling Tony more firmly against his chest like his mother used to do when he felt the fight go out of the kid. "It was a dream. You're safe. You're at Bucky's and you're safe. Just breathe, that's it."

 

"Shit," said Tony, shuddering in the aftermath of the dream.

 

For a moment longer, Tony leaned into Steve's warmth, taking much needed but so long denied comfort in the older boy's soothing words and protective arms. Then he gathered his frayed emotions and shoved away.

 

"I'm okay," said Tony, glaring at the ground.

 

Steve nodded and climbed back into his own bed, knowing better than to try and talk it out with the kid. Tony was a bit like Bucky in that respect; both boys would remain vainly independent until the end and somehow it was worse with Tony. Bucky at least had always had someone to fall back on, something told Steve that Tony hadn't had that before.

 

Down on his borrowed bed, Tony pulled the blanket more firmly around his shoulders. He listened as Steve's breathing evened back out, taking in the sounds of the house around him. Everything had that muffled quality of nighttime but Tony could still tell that other people were in the house. It was a strange concept for him. He lived in a house easily twice the size of Bucky's but it was always empty of people. He had been taken from his own room seven different times. Each resulted in a short stay, a ransom note, and then a paid in full reward. It quit scaring Tony after the third time but he still found it difficult to sleep in a bed.

 

With a shake of his head, Tony got up and silently left the room. He hadn't slept in a bed since his time in a cave. Every time he tried, the nightmares came back with a vengeance.

 

The living room was dark. Tony dragged the blanket along with him and curled up on the floor, arms cushioning his head. The floor was lightly cushioned, much better than the too soft bed, and the light from the radio under the television was a comfort, even if the clock was broken. Eventually, he fell back asleep, this time the nightmares staying away.

 

A few hours later, Bucky and Steve stepped out of their rooms, dressed to work out. It had become routine for them to meet up and work out every morning. Neither were surprised to find Tony curled up on the floor fast asleep. What did surprise them was finding Natasha asleep on the couch and Clint sitting on the armrest, keeping watch.

 

"He okay?" whispered Steve.

 

"Tasha heard him about two hours ago," replied Clint. "Nightmare. She calmed him down without waking him up. I stayed up to keep make sure it didn't happen again."

 

"Kid's a basket case," said Bucky, shaking his head. "He won't appreciate us hovering."

 

Steve motioned them all over to the hall.

 

"Nightmares? Really?" said Bucky once they were out of earshot.

 

"The funeral is today, what did you expect?" snapped Steve. "Of course he's going to have nightmares."

 

"Did you know he sleeps better on the floor?" asked Clint.

 

"So?" said Bucky. "You sleep better in a hammock. You're not really one to judge."

 

"Don't you think it's weird? Rich kid, huge mansion, probably worlds most comfortable bed, and he sleeps better on the ground. Or anywhere that's not a bed. That's not natural."

 

Bucky sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He would never admit it but he really liked Tony. He saw a lot of himself in the kid and today he would have to bury his family. Not even fifteen and orphaned, homeless, and alone in the world save for a misfit group of seniors he didn't fully trust. It was a wonder the kid spoke at all.

 

"Hey," said Steve, tapping his friends forehead. "Look, we're doing the best we can. He's going to be okay."

 

"I'm just worried he'll mess up my date tonight," said Bucky, which was as close to agreement as Steve knew he would get. Steve knew Bucky wasn't concerned about his date but the older man didn't know how to express that properly.

 

"Didn't mean to be a burden," said Tony, shoving through the door and running down the stairs.

 

"Asshole," said Natasha, slapping Bucky outside the head, something Bucky didn't even try to avoid because he knew he deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love the idea of Bucky being all gruff and stuff but still adopting everyone because he's secretly a big softy.   
> Always,  
> Ari


	7. People Who Matter

There was no where for him to go, he realized that as soon as he was outside the front door. He had no place to run to and with the funeral just hours away, the media was sure to notice him running a muck on his own. They always noticed the unimportant things. So Tony sat down on the steps, head in his hands, the sun not quite up yet, and just tried to settle down.

"He didn't mean it," said Natasha, appearing next to Tony as if by magic, which Tony was convinced she had. "Bucky's just an ass who doesn't know how to handle feelings. In his own mind, he was saying something nice. He really is a great guy once you get to know him."

"That's like saying he's an asshole but you get used to it," scoffed Tony.

"You're not wrong," chuckled Natasha.

The two sat there for several more minutes in silence.

"I don't want to go to their funeral," admitted Tony softly.

"Funeral's suck."

Tony blinked, surprised at Natasha's response. He was sure she was going to say something about how difficult it must be to bury both his parents at such a young age or something like that. But that wasn't what he was dreading. Burying his parents would be painful no doubt, but they hadn't been what parents were supposed to be, according to all the research Tony had done. And he had done a lot of research. He was dreading the smaller, private funeral that would be in the evening, the one for Jarvis, the only person who - for the longest time - had cared about him.

"Mrs. Barnes is making breakfast," said Natasha after what she deemed a long enough pause. "Let's go inside and eat. If you want, we can guilt Bucky for a while longer. It's fun to see him squirm and you may even get him to apologize, which trust me, is one of the most awkward things ever."

Tony nodded and smiled a bit, allowing the girl to pull him to his feet by his arm. Once inside the house, it became apparent that the rest of the house had awoken and were moving around. Tony followed Natasha a bit timidly into the kitchen where a woman who he assumed was Mrs. Barnes was putting bacon on a plate.

"Hello, Natasha," greeted Mrs. Barnes with a grin when she caught sight of the redhead. "And you must be Tony. I don't think we've formally been introduced. I'm Amelia Barnes, Bucky's mother."

"Hello," said Tony, holding out his hand formally like he had been taught. "I'm Anthony Stark but everyone calls me Tony, unless I'm in trouble."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Tony. Please make yourself at home, I'm sure Natasha will be able to show you where everything is. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. You're always welcome here."

Before Tony could stutter out a response, Mrs. Barnes was gone, moving on to the next task that her perpetually busy household required. Tony blinked and watched as Natasha picked up a plate and helped herself to eggs, bacon, and syrup.

"You better get some food before the boys make it down here," said Natasha. "They always eat everything. I don't know how Mrs. Barnes does it."

"You stay here a lot?" asked Tony, gingerly loading his plate with food, as if afraid it would be taken away or someone was going to yell surprise at any moment and start laughing at him for thinking a complete stranger would feed him.

"We all do," said Natasha, settling at the worn table with Tony following suit. "Not all the time, but the Barnes's are sort of surrogates for everyone. I don't know how they do it, but they never complain when Bucky brings home strays. They welcome it, actually, so yeah, we all spend time here."

"Breakfast!" yelled Clint, running into the kitchen. "Yes!"

"No need to shout, you hooligan," said Steve, shoving Clint out of the way as he poured two mugs of coffee.

"If you took all the good, burnt bacon again Clint I swear I'm going to shove your head down the toilet," said Bucky, marching through the door with hair damp from a shower.

Tony watched the interactions with interest. For him, breakfast was always a near silent affair when he bothered having breakfast at all. Steve brought his own plate piled high with food to the table and set down his mug of coffee in his place before setting the other steaming mug in front of Tony without looking at the boy. Clint pushed Tony, chair and all, over so he could sit next to Natasha while Bucky took a place on the other side of Tony, looking supremely awkward. Tony didn't say a word until his phone rang.

"Hello," said Tony, looking down at his coffee.

"Tony, where the hell are you?" said Rhodey on the other end of the line, sounding annoyed and worried mixed together.

"I'm at Bucky's having breakfast, Sour Patch, relax," said Tony, sounding more himself than he had in a while.

"Well hurry up and get changed, we have to get you to the funeral before the media realizes you're not arriving with Stane."

"Yeah, I'm not going," said Tony.

"Like hell you aren't."

"I don't want to be anywhere near that man," hissed Tony.

"You won't be near him," snapped Rhodes. "As if I'd let that creep near you after what he's done. But you have to go to the funeral. I've already set up the seating arrangement, so you don't have to worry about that."

"I thought only weddings had seating arrangements," said Tony. "Funerals were supposed to be free-for-alls."

"Not when it's your parents and their crazy ass business partners. Just get your friends to drive you here and I'll fill you in when you get here."

"Fine, see you in twenty minutes," sighed Tony.

"And Tony?"

"Yeah Rhodey?"

"Don't you dare think about wearing that red tie of yours."

"Mean."

Rhodes laughed and hung up the phone. Tony slid out of his seat.

"Gotta get changed," shrugged Tony. "Sour Patch has his panties in a twist because I'm not there yet."

"Alright, we'll be ready in ten," said Steve, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Dibs on driving!" yelled Clint.

"Dibs on never riding with Clint!" yelled Natasha.

Tony shook his head and went upstairs to change. He found the suit he was going to wear already hanging on the bathroom door, freshly pressed, and he wanted to cry because it reminded him of how Jarvis used to have his suits laid out for him. But he fought that urge, because crying would solve nothing and Jarvis wouldn't have wanted him to cry over a suit.

By the time Tony had changed and combed his hair into some semblance of order, the others were already ready and waiting for him at the cars. They opted to take two, in case anything came up and one person needed to leave early. Tony rode with Steve, sitting next to him in the front passenger seat with Bucky in the back seat. The others rode with Clint, Natasha grumbling the entire time. When they arrived at the funeral Tony and the others slipped into the back of the building and met up with Rhodes.

"Stane is already here," said Rhodes as a way of greeting, though he still pulled Tony in for a quick hug. "He's sitting on the front right. Tony, you're going to have to walk in after the coffins and sit on the front left. I'm going to walk with you. If anyone asks, I'm acting as your guard but I doubt anyone will ask. People rarely do."

"Where do you want us?" asked Steve.

"You lot will sit in the seats right behind Tony and me. You should go in now and sit down. The service will start in a half hour."

"You'll be okay out here, Tony?" asked Steve softly, looking down at the younger boy.

"Yeah," said Tony with a grim half smile. "Rhodey's got me. No worries."

Steve and the others nodded and turned to find their way to their seats, leaving Tony and Rhodes alone.

"Do you want to see the bodies and say goodbye before they close the lids?" asked Rhodes softly once they were entirely alone.

"Where's Jarvis?" asked Tony anxiously.

"He's down that hall," sighed Rhodes. "He'll still be there after the funeral, Tony, you can see him then. I promise, they won't close his coffin until you've had your chance to say goodbye properly, but that won't be until tonight. Right now, it's about your parents."

"I want to see Jarvis," said Tony firmly.

"Tony, you can't let the media see you more upset about your butler dying than your parents."

"I don't give a damn about what the media sees," growled Tony. "Jarvis was more of a parent to me than those two sperm and egg donors ever were and you know it.   
Now I want to see Jarvis and you can either keep guard at the door like I know you're going to insist on doing or you may sit here and pretend you don't know where I am, but either way I'm going to see him."

With that, Tony stalked off, down the hall, and into the room that held his butler's body, knowing that Rhodey was only a few steps behind, because while he may not always agree with Tony's actions he always had the younger boys back.

The casket was a soft light brown, the top was flat, and Tony instantly knew where it had come from. It was one of the caskets made by monks in one of the northern states. It was beautiful to say the least and simple and everything Jarvis would have wanted. And Jarvis, he looked incredible. Tony knew it wasn't real but he swore the man looked like he was just sleeping. Tony would have believed it if he couldn't make out the tiniest drop of clear glue at the left corner of the man's right eye, glistening in the dim light, letting Tony know that Jarvis was in fact dead and his body was being held together by stitches and glue.

"They know," said Tony softly, his fingers absently tracing the edges of the coffin because he wasn't sure he could speak without moving his hands. "Steve, Natasha, Thor, Clint, Bruce, and Bucky, they know how old I am. I thought I should tell you because you are always pushing me to let people in and make friends. They don't hate me. I'm starting to think they actually want me around, and not just because they feel sorry for me."

Tony paused, waiting for the answer Jarvis would normally give, one along the lines of how of course his friends actually liked him, he was a good boy, but there was no answer.

"My birthday is almost here," continued Tony. "I got your present but I haven't opened it. You hate it when I peek. It's in the room at Bucky's place. Bucky let me stay there, but I don't know how long that'll last.

"Can you just stop this now?" whispered Tony, his voice cracking in the middle. "Can you stop being dead? It's not a good look on you. And you have to be here for my birthday. You're the only one who ever celebrates it. So I need you to wake up. Stane has taken over the house and I won't live with him, you know what he'll do. Come on, Jarvis, I'm not even 15, I can take on the world, we both know that, but I still need you to take care of me when it all goes to shit. Please."

Jarvis didn't answer, but Tony didn't really expect him to. He was an adult now and needed to start acting like it.

"Tony," said Rhodey softly from the doorway. "Tony, we have to go now. It's time."

Tony nodded and took one last look at the only father he had ever known before squaring his shoulders and walking out of the room with his head held high, just like Jarvis had taught him, to face the room full of waiting people who neither knew him nor particularly cared that his entire world was resting in a monk made casket down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else like emotions? Just me? Cool...
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	8. Hush Now

It would have been more fitting if it was raining. It always seemed to be raining in the movies but it was late and everyone was gone and there was no rain. Tony sat in front of the newest tombstone in the remote graveyard on the freshly turned earth that was still a mound waiting to settle and be planted by grass. The sun was setting and Tony knew he should leave soon, knew that he needed to get back before it was too dark and Rhodey started worrying, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

"Hey Jude," sang Tony softly, rocking himself as his eyes fixed on the name engraved on the white marble in front of him. "Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better."

Tony shuddered as a chilled wind swept around him, stealing his soft, broken voice - not that it mattered. He wasn't the one who was supposed to sing the song in the first place; Jarvis was the one who sang 'Hey Jude' to Tony from the time he was a fussing infant until just a short time ago when he had been upset about starting a regular school. Anytime Tony was upset, Jarvis would sing him that song almost like a lullaby.

Eventually, Tony just curled up at the foot of the tombstone, knees drawn up to his chest, head in the dirt, and closed his eyes, allowing the cold to seep into his bones in hopes of making his mind as numb as the rest of his body.

It wasn't long after that he felt his head being gently lifted and settled on someone's lap, a small hand combing through his hair. A large jacket that smelled distinctly like Steve fell over his body until just his head was out. He knew the others were picking spots around him but he couldn't be bothered to open his eyes.

Natasha eyed Steve, not pausing in smoothing Tony's hair. Steve, who had inserted himself as a wind block at Tony's feet, just shrugged. If the kid wanted to spend the night at the grave, they weren't going to stop him this once. But only this once. The night went by slowly with each one taking a turn watching while the others slept, always keeping guard.

By the time Tony finally opened his eyes, the sky was just turning a light blue. He was pleasantly warm regardless of the chilled air. Sometime during the night Clint had sprawled out in front of Tony, his warmth radiating to the youth. Tony twitched slightly, stretching and sitting up, effectively waking up everyone around him, all of who were more in light dozes that actual sleep.

No one said a word, they just picked themselves off the ground, dusted off the dirt that clung to their clothes, and began walking towards the cars as if it were the most natural thing to fall asleep in a graveyard. Tony was grateful for their silence.

"We have to go to school in a few hours," said Steve when they arrived at Bucky's house.

"I don't want to," whined Bucky.

"Too bad," said Steve with a grin. "Get showered, you're going to your classes. Tony, you too. You're hairs a mess. You at least have to comb it before we head out."

Tony grumbled but did as directed, showering quickly and dressing in school appropriate clothes. He told himself it was because he wanted to and not because Steve told him to, but that was a lie; it felt nice to have someone take charge of him and act like they cared about his well being and the sense of normality that just going to school gave him comforted him.

As soon as he entered, Tony knew that going to school had been a mistake. Everyone was staring at him openly, making comments about him, some even tried to approach him but since Steve had driven him, everyone were sent away before they could reach him. Tony found himself immensely grateful for the impromptu body guards that were his friends, even if he knew that needing them was weak. He just couldn't find it in himself to care.

It was lunch time before Tony found himself alone. He had stopped off in the bathroom to wash his hands and was just about to leave when a group of boys he recognized as the group that called themselves Hydra, their leader a towering redhead who liked being called Red Skull, entered, talking loudly. When they caught sight of Tony, they started to laugh.

"How's it going, orphan boy?" asked Red Skull, a sneer pulling at his pale features, twisting the possibly handsome face into nothing more than another misshapen mess of skin and bone.

"So it IS true that red heads have no soul," replied Tony, in no mood to deal with the larger boy. "Or did you sell yours to a demon in exchange for good looks? Because if that's the case, I would get my money back, mate. Or maybe the demon did the best he could but even he couldn't fix how ugly you are."

Tony would have said more, but that was the moment that Red Skull punched him in the eye, knocking Tony back several steps and into the stall door.

"You'd better watch your mouth, you little prick," sneered Red Skull, advancing on him with his minions close behind, forming a rather solid wall between Tony and the exit.

"Or what?" scoffed Tony even though he knew he should shut up. The problem was that this fight was just what he had needed. He needed something to jolt him back to reality and fighting with Red Skull was doing a pretty decent job. "I'm not scared of you. You need an entire goon squad before you will fight one person."

Red Skull didn't dignify that with a response, merely grabbed Tony by the hair and stuffed him face down into the toilet bowl.

Tony flailed, fought, kicked, did everything in his power to get out of the water, to answer the cry from his burning lungs and reach the surface to just breathe, but it was no use. He was totally at the mercy of Red Skull, who would drag him out for a moment that was just long enough for Tony to gasp out a breath before he was being forced back down. It seemed to go on for a lifetime but just as suddenly as it had started, Red Skull's hand was being torn away from Tony's hair and the younger boy was being pulled back from the toilet, hair and face dripping with water.

Tumbling back, Tony coughed and choked on blissfully sweet, clear air, shuddering with emotions he couldn't quite figure out, happy to just breathe. At least, he was until his oxygen deprived brain became aware that someone was holding him.

"Easy, kiddo," said Clint's rough voice from somewhere above Tony as the younger boy began to fight weakly. "It's just me. You're safe. Steve and Thor ran them out. You're okay. I've got you."

It took several minutes before Tony was calm enough to extract himself fully from Clint's protective grasp. When he did, he looked around and took in the scene of the bathroom. Bruce was standing guard by the door, his face an angry set. Clint was a few feet away from Tony, still sitting on the ground, his face as blank as it could be, shirt dripping from where Tony had rested.

"Um, sorry," said Tony softly, gesturing to the older boy's shirt. "About all that."

"Don't worry about it," shrugged Clint. "I'm sure you had them on the ropes."

Clint smiled a private smile, as if there was some joke there that Tony wasn't privy to, but Tony didn't feel as if he were being made fun of, so he let it go.

"I've got a spare shirt in my locker," said Clint when Tony got to his feet. "It'll be a bit big on you, but it's better than being wet all day."

"That's what she said," said Tony softly.

Clint and Bruce chuckled and threw companionable arms around his shoulders, sandwiching the kid between their significantly larger forms, both as reassurance that he was safely with them and as protection from any outside forces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should write something cheerful next....
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	9. Planned

As stupid as it sounds, the house jumped. Tony was sitting on the stained white carpet in the center of thro bedroom he was borrowing from Bucky, painting Natasha’s nails – because his hands were steady and everyone was concerned what he would do if they left him alone for too long - bubble gum pink for her friend’s mom’s funeral who had just lost her battle with breast cancer. 

“I hated that term ‘lost her battle’ as if she stood a chance in a civil war on her own body,” said Tony, focusing on the task at hand, when the house jumped causing a stroke of pink paint to hop from Natasha’s nail down her finger like a racetrack. 

Tony groaned - he couldn’t paint nails worth a damn to begin with and was only trying because Natasha was terrifying - capped the bottle, and went to the window to peak over the yellow - they used to be white 24 years ago - shutters that reached half way up the single pane windows. Tony had wondered why Bucky’s house didn’t have storm windows at first but he quit wondering because it didn’t really matter. Outside, everything was fine, no trees had fallen, no roof collapsed, the old historic neighborhood was as it had been since before the city around it popped up.

Tony heard a baby girl crying somewhere in the vast house. The Barnes’s must have taken in another family again. Natasha and Tony went into the living room of Bucky’s upstairs rooms to turn on the news. Smoke filled the screen and for a second Tony thought the television was on fire - which was stupider than thinking the house jumped - but it wasn’t, it was just the screen because he heard screams and sirens that echoed the faded ones from outside which meant they were several blocks away. Then the camera zoomed out and Tony could see the half collapsed building on fire - Tony knew that building, had slept in it almost every day for his entire life, it was on that horrible street with a pretentious name Tony refused to learn how to pronounce - but more importantly Tony saw a man he was sure he recognized from somewhere but it was difficult to tell with all the smoke with a straggly attempt at facial hair in a burnt suit, screaming as blood streamed down the left side of his face. 

It took Tony a moment but eventually he recognized him as the man who had taken over his parents house when they died. Obi was there on television, blocks away and no one was helping him. Couldn’t they hear the man screaming? And Tony just stood there, eyes glued on his father’s former business partners soot and blood covered face, until he realized that it was just blocks away, which meant the bomb - who would bomb the mansion, didn’t everyone think Tony lived there and he certainly wasn’t a threat - went off just a few blocks from his high school. Tony wanted to call the school or something to see if maybe some punk had been mixing chemicals or any other logical reason for his parent’s house to explode but the man on the television kept staring at him, pleading with Tony to help him and Tony couldn’t leave the only person left who had been in his life most of his life alone. Why wasn’t the person holding the camera going to Obi? What asshole lets an injured man bleed and yell in pain just for a good shot? And then Clint was running in front of Tony, staring at the television as they switched to a better shot of the still burning building and Clint started talking to Natasha and ran to call Steve, leaving Tony to stare at the screen and all Tony could think was how Jarvis had to die but Obi somehow survived an explosion.

“Tony,” said Natasha, stepping between Tony and the television, breaking Tony’s line of sight and concentration, snapping him out of the daze he had fallen into. “Tony, breathe.”

Tony blinked at Natasha and only the realized that he was shaking and on the verge of hyperventilating. Tony quickly sat on the ground as Bucky ran into the room.

“Clint told me what happened,” said Bucky. “It’s on the news. Tony.”

Before Tony could respond in some way, Bucky was over and pulling the younger kid into his arms, rocking them slowly back and forth.

“I need Rhodey,” said Tony at last, finally giving in to his bodies needs and melting into Bucky’s embrace. “Rhodey will know what to do.”

“Steve’s trying to get ahold of him,” said Natasha. 

“Rhodey will fix it,” said Tony.

Bucky didn’t try to correct Tony’s logic; Tony had lost too much in the course of a few short days really to be able to cope without latching on to the one person who had always protected him. And that was Rhodey. Bucky hoped the Steve could at least get Rhodey on the phone. 

“Bucky,” said Natasha, her eyes fixed on the screen.

“I’m in complete shock,” said Obi on the television, blood still on his face. “It’s just so heartbreaking. Tony was in the shop. He was working with the newest set of weapons for the military when the explosion happened. That’s where, that’s where it happened. Tony’s gone. I can’t believe it.”

“Holy shit,” said Tony. “That bastard planned this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the thoughts for my mom. She's doing better.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to hit all the stereotypical AU's for this collection (while I guess pairing Tony with every combination ever because....why not) so if I've missed one you want to see, let me know. Or if I've already done one that you want to see again, let me know. I think I've hit most of them.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


End file.
